Changing the Rules
by Charity Angel
Summary: In which Dean throws his old rulebook out the window. [Destiel fix s10e11-13]


_A/N: Okay, so I cheated: this isn't actually fixing an episode where they appeared together, but a string of episodes where they conspicuously **didn't** appear together. Yes, 10.11-10.13, I'm looking at you..._

_(and I have absolutely NO idea how to fix the crapfest of The Hunter Games)_

* * *

Dean was trying really hard not to be annoyed that Cas was only talking to Sam these days. Being annoyed about anything really wasn't the way to go with anything these days because it made his blood sing with violence as the Mark got a taste of what it wanted. But they were making it really damn difficult not to be annoyed with them, always talking on the phone; and about him most, if not all, of the time.

Dean had tried looking at it rationally and understanding that they were only trying to help him out; trying to rid him of this curse he had chosen for himself, but it didn't help most of the time. Generally, Dean would be thrilled that the two most important people in his life– his brother and his angel – got o… Whoa, where did that come from?!

Old Dean would have pretended that thought had never happened. That it was just a slip, and move on, nothing to see here. New Dean was trying to turn over a new leaf, and part of that was not keeping his incredibly unhealthy old habit of ignoring things until they went away, or they turned into something that was so evil they couldn't be ignored any more. And the truth of it was that Dean had deliberately not been poking at the nature of his relationship with Cas for some time now, ignoring things because it was easier to leave them as they were. Cas was his best friend, and that's all there was to it.

Except that wasn't true, and New Dean suspected that even Old Dean had known that. He just hadn't known how to deal with it. Because Dean – Old and New – knew that Cas had given up his entire world for Dean; had actually given up his life for Dean. Twice. He treated everything that Dean said as gospel truth, and had even gotten the hang of sarcasm just so that he could understand Dean better. And Cas was dying, and still sacrificing his health; wasting time trying to find a solution to Dean's little problem rather than finding his own cure.

New Dean knew that Cas was in love with him. Old Dean had never thought about it because he would have freaked out. But New Dean was more mellow than that, and surprised himself with how okay he was about it. And a bit more poking and prodding informed him that the reason he was so annoyed about Sam and Cas having their little phone club was that he was jealous. Not of Sam as such, because Sam and Cas were friends, and that was very okay, but because Sam was the only one getting to talk to Cas at the moment. Time was, it would have been Dean that Cas called to discuss anything with, and now the angel wasn't calling him at all. Not since Claire and the massacre that had followed.

Dean knew it hurt Cas to see him so different, so torn up and teetering on the brink of demon-hood again. But he thought that Cas might be proud of New Dean; of the changes that Dean was making to himself to help him deal with the Mark. That Dean was finally growing up and realising shit. And was even prepared to act on said shit, as evidenced by him picking his phone up and dialling.

"Dean."

Yep, that was not just friendship when the mere sound of his voice sent pleasurable shivers down your spine. That was definitely more.

"Hey Cas. How's things?"

There was a pause. "Has Sam not informed you that I am following a lead?"

Dean bit off a growl of frustration and shoved Old Dean back where he belonged. Cas was an old man; he needed to be eased into change. He wouldn't understand right away that Dean wasn't just after an update about the mission.

"Yeah, man, he's told me what you're doing. But how are you? You still firing on all cylinders?"

"I am well, Dean," Cas said, with that touch of indulgence in his voice that meant he had that tiny smile going on. That tiny, sexy little smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made him look mischievous. "How are you?"

Dean gave a shrug that he knew Cas couldn't see. "Doing good, actually," he said. "I mean, I'm turning into Sam with my diet and going for a run every day and crap like that to get the endorphins going, but it's good. Miss you, though."

There was another moment of hesitation where Cas was clearly running the conversation through the database of cultural context that Metatron had downloaded into his head. Dean could clearly picture the little frown Cas would be wearing.

"I miss your company also," he replied eventually. "But I am not strong enough to fly us both: it is more logical for me to travel alone."

Hey, look at that: Cas was learning to be honest too when it came to his weaknesses. There was hope for both of them. You know, as long as they both survived.

"Cas..."

He heard the crack in his voice as he forced himself not to consider the possibility of what might happen to Cas now that he was weakening again. Because that way led to anger and the Dark Side. He tried not to think about...

"Delacroix, Cas."

There was a huff at the end of the phone, as if Cas didn't know whether to laugh or to be annoyed with him.

"I will endeavour not to destroy the last of my grace by banishing five of my brethren to the ends of the Earth, using my own vessel as a walking canvas," he decided upon, making Dean laugh a little.

"I don't want another phone call from a hospital, Cas," Dean warned. "I..."

_Man up_, he told himself sternly.

"I want you safe, Cas. I... I don't like you tracking Cain on your own while you're weak. He's powerful, dude."

There, that wasn't so hard to admit, was it? After all, being worried about Cas, for Cas, was nothing new. The dude was a trouble-magnet at the best of times.

He took a deep breath and continued before Cas could summon the correct response to Dean's statement.

"Cain found a way to deal with the rage," he said slowly. "And I have to too, but maybe my way doesn't have to be the same as his. It's not like Cain knows some magical way to get rid of the Mark, otherwise he'd have done it. There's only two people know if it's possible: one's in the Cage and the other doesn't give a damn. So... why don't you come home, Cas? Let us work on _your_ problem for a while."

"Dean…"

"Cas, you're dying. It's not going to go away. I'm feeling pretty good right now, and I'm feeling even better just talking to you, knowing you're safe. Cas, please. I want you around. I want you _here_. I _need_ you here, beside me."

And apparently it was as simple as that: Cas was stood at the foot of the bed before he even cut off the phone connection.

"You must give Verizon a conniption fit every time you fly," he joked weakly, getting to his feet and dropping his own phone onto the bed.

"Dean."

"Hey, Cas."

Cas stared at him, that stare that still seemed to go right down to Dean's soul. That stare that meant that Cas was trying to work out something so alien to him that it took him a while to process and he was stalling for time. That stare that only Dean was ever on the receiving end of.

Dean decided to make it simple for him: he took the two steps so that he was in front of Castiel, took Cas' hand in his and pulled him gently into a kiss.

It took Cas a moment to work out what the hell was going on, but once he got with the programme, he was tentative but sure and surprisingly competent.

Old Dean would have died before admitting that he loved a man, or that kissing one was actually very pleasant. New Dean decided that this was Cas, so Old Dean could go to hell (again). And this so wasn't about gratification. That was why he'd shut down the Tindr app and stopped even looking at girls: gratification wasn't getting him anywhere. But the lovely warm feeling spreading through him, right down to the tips of his fingers and toes, was getting him everywhere, and the kiss was slow and gentle and just about needing each other. It wasn't physical, this thing they had. It was so far beyond physical that even New Dean didn't have a word for it.

"Stay," he whispered against Cas' mouth as his free hand came up to stroke through the hair at the back of Cas' neck, all clingy and possessive and desperate and feeling so very safe, as if the hand at the small of his back were so much more.

"I will," Cas vowed.

"I can't do this without you," Dean admitted.

"Dean," Cas said, with a tiny note of reproach in his voice. "I said I will not leave you."

Dean dared to open his eyes, and found the black shadows of Cas' once-magnificent (and fucking terrifying) wings curved around him, embracing him more thoroughly than Cas' vessel could ever manage on its own.

He didn't know what to say, because anything he did say would cheapen the moment. And he knew how self-conscious Cas was about his all-but useless wings these days. So he didn't say anything at all: he dropped his head so that it was resting on Cas' shoulder and he clung to the angel, letting Cas take care of him for this brief moment in time. He let the feeling (of contentment?) fill him so completely that the Mark had no chance of taking hold. And wouldn't ever again, if he had any say in the matter.


End file.
